#and I haven't fumbled my job yet

[braceletofteeth]

On the very first day at my new place, the bag that had my laptop inside fell HARD, from a counter straight to the floor—but because SFH taught me well, I had it wrapped up securely, and it's still working fine, thus saving me from the same fate as Jongwoo.

[hanaonesflower]

“let me do this for you.”

“let me get that for you.”

“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.

"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"

"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."

you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.

you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.

"this is getting out of control, kento."

"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."

nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.

so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.

"kento! what happened?!"

"nothing to worry about my l-"

"enough! tell me, now."

your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.

"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."

"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."

"it's not that bad."

you glare.

"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."

"I bet it does."

you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.

there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.

"you haven't been yourself lately."

silence.

"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."

kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.

a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.

"that's really how you feel?"

"have I been absent to you, y/n?"

you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.

"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."

"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.

"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."

"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."

truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"

"is it working?"

he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.

"I think it's very kind of you."

he sighs.

"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."

"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."

“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.

“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.

“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.

“then can i say that i love you, too?”

“that, you can.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧

note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)

[pilotingdreammsss]

None the wiser.

Tws for: Drugging/spiking, general cult theme, generic yan stuff. Darker content. Potential ooc.

A/N: Black Forest Cookie certainly teeters at the like of yandere to some aspect. Couldn't resist just oneeee oneshot.

This wedding wasn't one like you'd ever attended.

Organised by an infamous wedding planner, Wedding Cake Cookie, you had been hired to merely take photos. You lacked much connections to the bride, Black Forest Cookie, minus some run-ins when you'd catch her scampering away, eagerly to go show her devotion.

To what? You never knew. You were only in the proximity- but she'd always acted so strange. Both to whomever she was so hopelessly devoted to, and to you. You had some 'witchy connections', she'd mutter, or something across those lines. You were never paying so much attention.

Now she was so insistent to marry her creators - to be a sacrificial bride - you were convinced that she'd lost some marbles. Deluded, she was, however, you had but a job. Earning a pretty penny from wedding photos.

No, no- she was... deluded. Yes, the witches were so far away. But you, oh you were close. You were a cookie, the closest she got to those witches. Maybe it was something in your life powder!

Oh, she had to have you! This wedding was for the both of you! Yes, her hopeless devotion to them was important, but you came second! Just second place, she made sure Wedding Cake Cookie had hired you.

The wedding ceremony was truly going marvelously. It was certainly something different, but so meticulously planned.

It was time to cut the cake. Why not have the wedding photographer have some, too? You'd been saved a special slice. Specially brought by the bride herself.

With narrow, shadowed eyes, she would pass the plate into your arms. Your doughs would touch, if only just for a moment, she does have to stop herself from blushing!

There's something about her gaze that seems deeply sinister. Sinisterly loving, that is... but it is her wedding day. She feels so much love, this is nothing out the ordinary.

Your hands grab onto the allocated fork, cutting into the cake with one fell chop. It's soft, crumbling apart easily. Adorning a dark, chocolatey colour, adorned with cherries and chocolate. The cake just barely touches your lips and you almost forget she's intently staring.

"Do you like it?..."

It's deeply indulgent - a good cake - you say. She smiles, still equally as soft-spoken, and urges you to perhaps take a few more nibbles. You try decline, but the words leave your mouth slurred and uncoordinated. She does not feign concern as darkness seeps into your vision. She only holds her bouquet closer to her chest and tightens her smile.

You need to sit down and stumble to the nearest ledge that you can hold onto. Though it's much too late - you're on the brinks of collapse. Just barely conscious, you fumble to remain upright, held up by two arms around your waist. You expect it to be Wedding Cake Cookie, coming to your aid, though the voice confirms it's not your dear friend.

"Perhaps they might not notice my devotion yet... but you..."

Your mind scrambles to make sense of the situation.

"You... you will suffice..."

Ending notes:

Hello!~ au stuff will be coming soon, I'm still working on it, I apologise! I've got studies and haven't been awfully well health-wise, but I'll get back on track!

I whipped this out in like an hour. I need sleep... toodles!!~

[m2marie]

Mission with the Newbie

Summary: Y/n is send off on a mission with her new Mentor. Natasha Romanoff. Of all people, the woman who doesn’t seem to like her. Or so she assumed.

It’s been a week since I moved into the Avengers Compound, and honestly, I haven’t had much time to settle in properly. Everything still feels a bit overwhelming. It's like everyone knows what to do and how to act, and i just haven't found my place yet.

I get along well with everyone though —well, almost everyone.

Wanda is always so joyful and kind, she helped me settle in the last couple days and I'm so glad to have her around. We just clicked immediately and she really seems to get me. Natasha thought is the complete opposite.

I can’t shake the feeling that Natasha doesn’t like me. Every time we’re in the same room, she either throws some sarcastic comment my way or just stares at me for way too long. It’s like she’s analyzing me or waiting for me to mess up. I have no idea what I did to get on her bad side, but it’s starting to drive me crazy. I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s impossible when the tension is so obvious.

This morning, we both ended up in the kitchen. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her coffee, while I fumbled around looking for a clean mug. The silence was unbearable until she finally spoke.

“You always take this long to find a cup, or is it a special skill?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. I turned to face her, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I didn’t realize coffee mugs were a competition around here.” She smirked and took another sip. “Relax. It’s just an observation. You’re so jumpy all the time.”

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t keep staring at me like I’m about to explode,” I shot back, unable to hold it in anymore.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“Maybe,” I said, though I didn’t believe it for a second. The room fell silent again, but this time it felt even heavier. Wanda and Pietro entering the kitchen finally ended my misery. Pietro had taken off his shirt, it was hanging over his left shoulder. A bit of sweat running down his forehead He was chatting with his sister, wearing a black sports bra and some red leggings. The same exhaustion visible on her reddened face. They obviously just came back from some sort of sport.

I am already proud of myself for standing in the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day at 7:30 am. Their energy really is a mystery to me.

"Hey Y/n, Tony wants to see you in his lab later.", Pietro tells me while peeling his orange. "Me?", i ask back, a bit perplexed. Tony and I have only exchanged a few sentences so far. As far as I noticed he spends most of his time in the lab. Fury was the one wanting me on the team. It's not like Tony seemed to have a problem with it, he didn't really care much for my presence so far.

"Yes you. Don't be so shocked, it's been about time he talks to you about your job on the team.", Wanda chuckled, "And he wants to see you too Nat."

She lets out an audible sight "Great. Lets get this over with then"

I follow the redhead to Tony’s lab, where he was leaning over a holographic display. When we walk in, he turns with his signature smirk. “Ah, just the ones i was looking for. Glad you could join me.”

“Get to the point, Stark,” Natasha said, her tone sharp. Tony chuckles . “Alright, here’s the deal. A small mission’s come up—nothing major, won’t take long. Natasha, I want you to handle it. And,” he gestures toward me, “take our newbie here along. Teach her a thing or two about going undercover.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowe. “You’re kidding.” She exhales slowly, the irritation clear in her voice. “So now I’m a babysitter.”

“Call it mentorship,” Tony says with a grin. “You’ll thank me later.”, what was that suppose to mean?

The drive to the motel is quiet for the most part, save for Natasha’s occasional muttering about Tony’s brilliant ideas. When we finally pull up to the small, run-down building, she kills the engine and looks at me. Her green eyes sparkling in the sun. I never noticed how mesmerizing her eyes are. “Welcome to your first undercover lesson: how to survive terrible accommodations.”, she smirks.

I followe her inside, and the receptionist hands us one key. Natasha doesn't say anything until we walk into the room. She stopps dead in her tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I peek over her shoulder and see the problem immediately—there was only one bed.

“Well, this is cozy,” I say awkwardly.

Natasha doesn't respond though, she throws the key onto the nightstand and crosses her arms. “You take the bed. I’ll take the chair.”

“You don’t have to do that! It's big enough, we can share.” I offer quickly. Too quickly maybe. She is barley bearable with a good nights sleep, i don't want to get to know a Natasha who just spend 8 hours on a hard wood chair.

She gave me a pointed look. “I’m fine. Just try not to snore.”

“Do you always sound this thrilled about missions?” I asked, trying to lift the awkward mood.

She smirks faintly, sitting down in the chair and kicking her feet up on the table. “Only when I’m stuck with rookies.”

I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or being serious, but I decided to leave it at that. This was going to be a long mission.

"So..." i start, not really knowing what I want to say. I am just trying to get away from this awkward tension. "... do we have a plan? Or are we just winging it."

"Lesson number two: We are never 'winging it', there is always a plan. And in this case, you follow mine." She explains. "Got it!", do i thought? Im not really better informed than i was a minute ago. But Nat didn't really seem to care much. My so called "Mentor" just started unpacking her bags. Silence. Again. I watch her every move. How she moves so gracefully across the room. Her red her swinging from side to side while she placed her few belongings to their new temporary places. She always seems so cold, distance. But there is something drawing me to her. I can't really place it , can't explain it. "It's important you dont get too distracted tomorrow. Try not staring at me too much or you'll mess up the whole mission " She interrupts my thoughts and i can feel the head working its way up into my head.

"No distractions. I'll remember that.", i answer looking down to hide my blush. But her little smirk still doesnt go unnoticed by me.

"You know, I never know what to call you.", I try to change the subject. Natasha looks at me, confusion written on her face. "Natasha, Nat, Romanoff... everyone has a different name for you", i clarify. Her green eyes piercing in my direction, slightly tilting her head,"You can call me whatever you want".

"Alright", i said slowly, unsure if that was actually helpful.

The next morning i woke up alone in our small room. Stretching my arms I looked across the room. The chair Nat demanded to spend the night on was turned towards my bed. The door cracks open slowly and Nat enters the room, holding two plates and two cups of coffee. "Rise and shine. We have a mission to attend to.", she says with a million dollar smile across her face.

Did i wake up in a new dimension? Why is she so enthusiastic all of a sudden. She really cant wait to get this babysitting job over with I assume.

"While you are getting your beauty sleep in, i made some research and this mission is even easier then expected."

And she was right. Unsurprisingly. The mission itself had been quick. We did the groundwork, got the intel, and i followed her lead. Nat worked effortlessly, efficiently. Her good mood from this morning didn't change either. Her icy professionalism long gone and instead replaced with linguine gaze. Either im starting hallucinating or THE Black widow, Natasha Romanoff, is checking me out. I dont know what changed, what caused her change in demeanor, but im not complaining about it.

When we got back to our Motel, Natasha didn't speak a word. Parking the car she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards our room. The hallway was quiet, almost as if we were completely alone in this motel. She turned around, looking into my eyes. I forced myself not to turn my gaze away from her dominant stare. Im almost certain that her eyes are slowly turning darker. Or it might me duo the flickering lamps. "This Hotel is total crap.", she states, as if she could read my mind. "But its on us to make the best of it, right?", her signature smirk returning again. Am in reading this situation completely wrong or is she shamelessly flirting with me right now?!

Without thinking, I stepped closer. The space between us disappeared easily, and suddenly, I was right in front of her. The air was thick with tension, and she didn’t back away—if anything, she leaned in, her presence making my heart race.

Before i could say anything else, i could feel her lips on mine. It was electric, urgent, like we’d both been waiting for this without realizing it. Her lips were soft but insistent, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, and I felt the world around us fade away. It was just the two of us, caught in the heat of the moment.

Pressing me against the door, her thigh in between my legs. "Maybe we should... go inside?" I husk out when our lipa finally part.

"Why? Afraid someone will see us out here?"She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against my arm. “Or are you just eager to get me alone again?”

The way she said it made my pulse spike, and I was certain she could tell. I swallowed hard, struggling for a clever comeback, but before I could say anything, she grabbed the key and opened the door herself, glancing over her shoulder as she walked inside.

“Coming?” she asked, the smirk never leaving her face.

And just like that, I knew she had the upper hand—but for once, I didn’t mind.

Thats it :)) My first time writing something, so i hope it wasn't too weird and chaotic... otherwise give me feedback

[robolvrr]

private show ੈ ♡˳

galaxy girl. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　

swerve x fem! camgirl warnings: nsfw. mutual masturbation.

one.

tossing this thing, far, far away from the lost light wasn't sounding like that bad of an idea.

really. he even had the nerve to fumble through an lie, assuring the now ragtag bunch of contraband-loving thieves having witnessed the magic on it that it wouldn't be a worry. he had it.

besides, rodimus badges were on the rise and whether any of them liked to admit it, it would be nice to earn one. not that swerve has. yet.

this kind of secret if found out? would land them all in magnus levels of trouble.

.. so why is swerve here? locked up in his habsuite, fist crunched between dentae and perspiration sweating down his helm? he asks himself these questions too late, which is a bittersweet epiphany, because by the time he does self reflect its usually long past knee-deep in scrap.

this is all kinds of wrong. he's all kinds of messed up and this infatuation with earth and humans and pretty, pretty girls has gone too far because he isn't even one -

"shouldn't i be tellin' this to .. rung? rang?"

the mumble of course met with silence. that is, until the pitch black screen zaps to life, temporarily fading his crestfallen expression to a faint reflection on a light, persimmon backdrop. the backdrop being evidently your bedroom, which you decorated just for him he acknowledges.

right. he had it, alright. credits, that is, enough to get one more show.

a personal one where he didn't have to bump shoulders or awkwardly squeeze his legs together, swipe prompts away while arm to arm with fellow crewmates to unlock his interface panels.

before swerve can talk himself out of this stupid idea again, the dreamy call of his designation bursts from the speakers instead. starstruck, he panics. slams a digit in a flurry on the audio controls, wincing a moment with a mortified grunt.

thank the primes he's mute. he can only hope it wasn't loud enough to warrant an complaint from a neighboring bot.

"sweeeerve.. you there, sweetie? i know you said you were nervous."

nervous? him? oh, buddy if you only knew! he slowly shifts forward and you'd have wished his camera were on, because it'd have been so cute seeing how delicately he handles the dented laptop, worried lip slipping between metal teeth.

tap tap tap. it's so hard typing.

[ Lol. Just haven't done this before. ]

he isn't sure what to expect at first. you're propped up, comfortable atop your tower of pillows. satin hides most of your chest and torso, but a split towards the front with a crinkled hem suggest the lingerie you wear is meant to be opened. unraveled, like a present. skin glittering like those earth movies and their shiny vampires, nipples pebbled through tempting fabric.

you look like a princess. you look like a goddess.

"oh? i'm popping your cam cherry then, mm?"

it takes him a second to understand what you're saying. his face grows hotter. he actually has to fan himself with a vibrating servo - you're a tease, sheesh!

[ HAHAHAHahaha. I guess. ]

swerve wants nothing more than to slam his helm against the wall. please don't torture him like this. not before you even start.

as if your hear his agony, a giggle tickles his audials. you finger the soft opening of your nightwear, head tilted and lips pouted.

"alright, alright. i bet you're frustrated. but! i am a woman of my word."

frag, you're actually listening to him. a whiny part of him reminds that this is transactional and while it could shatter his confidence a tad, he's perplexed because you don't act like its just another job.

in fact, he's a little dizzy staring, watching you place both your hands near the wall behind you. then your legs are spreading, further and further and further, until he can see your glossy...

valve. cunt. pussy. the foreign words make his intake dry.

you're so fraggin' small. and he's bigger than you, way bigger, which isn't a feeling that graces his processors much. your small fingers, flirting with garters stuck tight at warm thighs. small mouth, huffing and panting while you work your.. you have a node?

it's so tiny. he has to squint to see it. blue visor hot enough to burn, his panel mechanisms move on their own embarrassingly fast, chubby spike ramrod at his torso.

"f. hah. hahhhhh, okay, uh.."

okay good, he's still on mute, to his relief. he doesn't even want to ex-vent because it might risk smothering your mildly, aggravated whine. you mewl. he laughs, in disbelief.

"y'know.. these kind of shows turn me on the most. cause if i can't see you, can't hear you.. i wanna make you overload more. drives me crazy."

engines revving, his strokes stutter upon hearing the terminology. must have known that too - are you a mind reader? - cause you smile, all-knowing.

"yeah. i wanna make you overload with me, swerve. would that make you feel less stressed out?"

[ Yes. Primusy es. ]

he doesn't bother correcting. instead he's fallen head over pedes watching you curl ring and middle deep inside, gagging on whines when you spread just enough to gape. he almost breaks when you whisper how you've never done it with a cybertronian, but you'd like to someday. that it was one of those fantasies none of your toys could even fulfill.

"d-don't think i could take you, hah. you bots are so big - fff - bet you you could show me a good time with just your hands."

swerve notes you like it, pressure, on that glossy nub, blunt of your palm grinding down hard. his jaw is tight as he jerks off in tandem, seeing the sticky juices gushing and wanting to shove his face right there. kissing, nonstop, until you spasm. the screen looks blurry. he's losing control.

"i'm so wet for you. do you like it?"

"are you kiddin'? c-course i do!" swerve almost chuckles again, right servo moving so fast its an sloppy mesh of squelches and rasps. keeling over, desperation paints his weakening demeanor. seeing you rise and fall chasing that high with him like an turbofox in heat is excruciatingly compelling.

"frag, frag, 'm so close baby, please, please-"

you smack your cunt. he lets out a quiet 'bwuh?' and shoulders sag seeing you squirm with a squeak. he could do that to you. he could be tender enough to do that too and he'd leave a sting that'd stay for days.

"so close, so c-close - i - shit - i'm gonna cum," what a surprise, to feel lubricant trickling down from near offlined optics, don't stop talking please, please, please - "swerve, you're gonna make me.. !"

white noise.

a dull, crackling hum fills his processors. he can't hear himself or you, the minibot crying while transfluid puddles, berth not cool enough to dampen the flames pulsing at his core. his charge is too much, knocking air he doesn't need straight from his chassis.

like dead to allspark, your dulcet whines drag him to the afterlife with cradling embrace.

by the time he's back online, his panels aren't closing nor can he lift himself, energon parched. he barely can see the text chat anymore as it is.

[ feel free to play with me again, swervey. you sound so sexy. ]

the screen is pitch black once more, taunting. to his horror, arousal floods his sensors, groan low.

damn it.

robolvrr 2025.

a/n: yeah so i'm actually insane. you're welcome. i'm just saying i'd give that bartender a ride he wouldn't survive. 　

[kleewie]

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. “if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.” his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

[youunravelme]

murphy's law sneak peek

author's note: this is just a look into what i've been working on the past few months (again, my b for being the most inconsistent writer ever). please let me know your thoughts! i'm hoping to finish this up VERY soon!! so here are the first two and a half pages of this fic! :))))))

mat barzal x beau's step-sister!reader (bc i'm not white and wanted to leave the reader racially neutral.)

summary:nothing good could come from sleeping with your (step) brother's best friend.

when anthony was traded to vancouver, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from under you. he was your rock since you were twelve when your mom and his dad got married. he was there when you finished your undergrad, and offered up the spare room in his apartment when you started your master's degree at columbia.

but with his new job back in your home country, you knew there was no way you could afford to stay in his apartment. after all, you were nowhere close to making the millions of dollars he did.

"don't worry about it," he said. "i have it taken care of."

what he didn't say was that the solution was staying in mat's extra room.

it wouldn't be that big of a deal, you knew mat just from the sheer amount of time he and anthony spent together. if it wasn't seeing him at games, it was out at bars, or in your shared apartment when you got home from class.

but despite all the interactions you had, almost none of them were meaningful. everything you knew about him started and ended with your connection to tito. and neither of you cared to remedy that.

it didn't mean you two were hostile, didn't even mean that you didn't like each other. it just meant that when tito wasn't around, you two didn't talk.

until you started living together.

the t-shirt incident

it wasn't intentional, you'd swear up and down that it wasn't. you recalled mat's text that he would be out that night and not to wait up for him (not that you ever did, but the sentiment was clearly communicated: stay out of the common areas).

you weren't even doing anything special that night, your boyfriend was out of town on a work trip and you hadn't met friends outside of the islander wags just yet (all of whom were busy that night). so you treated yourself to a shower and a face mask. you'd just finished washing it off when you heard the front door close.

truthfully, you almost stayed in your room until you realized your water cup was empty, and you might've let it go if it wasn't for the past few nights where you woke up craving a sip of water. but you'd like to think you were a considerate roommate, so you waited five minutes for mat to go to his room before you planned on going into the kitchen.

you didn't realize your mistake until you walked into the living room and caught mat and a girl, both shirtless.

to be honest, you weren't sure who screamed first, if it was you or the other girl. you managed to see her lunge for her shirt right as you covered your eyes with one hand and dropped your cup on the floor.

"oh my god," was all you could say.

but the other girl clearly wasn't rendered speechless like you were because she yelled "you didn't say you had a girlfriend, asshole!" before slamming the front door behind her.

you didn't move, couldn't move, too mortified to even acknowledge what you'd just interrupted. very slowly, like he couldn't see you, you bent down and fumbled around with one hand, blindly searching for the cup.

the couch creaked, followed by a heavy sigh from mat. "you can look, you know? nothing you probably haven't seen before."

you peeked between your fingers and saw mat pulling his shirt back on. you dropped your hand and stood up straight almost as soon as he was fully clothed.

cue the apology tour.

"oh my god, mat, i am so sorry! i totally wasn't thinking, i thought you were in your room by this point and i needed water. i didn't even think about what it would look like to your lady friend, if you'd like i can try to catch her before she gets in a cab and explain the situation?"

mat blinked at you. "lady friend?" he asked.

you shrugged. "well, she's a lady, and a friend."

he let out a dry laugh, though his lips didn't curl up in a smile. maybe it was more of a scoff? "friend is a bit of an overstatement. i don't even remember her name."

the room went silent before you caught mat staring at your chest. you glanced down and the urge to dig a hole and die in it crossed your mind.

the seattle thunderbirds logo was staring you in the face.

"oh god, our laundry must've gotten mixed up i'm sorry--"

"i was wondering where that shirt went."

you grabbed the bottom of the shirt before you remembered stripping in front of your new roommate was probably not the best thing to do.

"i can rewash it for you."

he nodded, but otherwise didn't offer anymore commentary.

so you scooped up the cup from the floor and sheepishly sidestepped your way into the kitchen.

and even though it took approximately four seconds to pour yourself a glass of water, you hid in the kitchen until you heard the telltale click of mat's bedroom door.

part of you thought it was best to stay out of his way the next morning, to let mat meander throughout the apartment before he went to his morning skate.

but then you thought about your childhood, and how you pissed anthony and francis off when you were fourteen so you baked them cookies after school and magically, everything was okay between the three of you by the end of the day.

so you woke up earlier than you normally would've to make mat breakfast. you'd made anthony breakfast before, surely mat's diet was about the same?

the eggs were nearly done when you heard his door open. it was only a matter of time before he joined you in the kitchen. you had his protein shaker bottle sitting on the island next to the plate of bacon you'd made. the toast had just popped out of the toaster.

"morning," mat said when he walked into the kitchen.

you whipped your head around to smile at him before focusing on the eggs in front of you. "hope you're hungry," you said. "i made breakfast."

you pulled the pan off the burner and placed them on a potholder. "wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, anthony likes his scrambled, so i just made them scrambled, hope that's okay."

he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you before helping himself to the meal you made and fixing his protein shake. you waited until he'd helped himself to the food and took a seat at the island before you said anything, just staring at his profile until he took a bite of the toast.

"i really am sorry about last night," you started. "it wasn't on purpose, i promise." you cleared your throat and made yourself busy by fixing your plate. "next time, i'll just go stay at someone else's place."

mat snorted into his protein shake. a sly smirk was on his lips when he pulled the drink away.

"what?" you asked, looking straight at him.

mat shook his head. "if you left every time i brought a girl over, you'd never be home."

you flushed and directed your eyes back to your plate. "oh."

you couldn't see mat run a hand down his face, but you could hear him sigh. "look," he said and you picked your head up to look into his eyes. "it's just going to be an adjustment. i'll make sure to text you when i'm coming home with a girl and i'll take her to my room as quickly as possible."

"and i'll make myself scarce until the morning."

mat shrugged. "i mean, you live here too, i'm not asking you to be holed up in your room, just maybe don't make an appearance in my shirt until i've at least told the girl about you?"

you nodded almost immediately. "i can do that. i swear, after today, i won't be a problem anymore! you can have literally all the girls over and you won't even know i'm here!"

if only that were true.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Can you please write dumb/cute/random things BTS members will do while they are crushing on reader?

This was cute to write! This is what I think they'd each be like with crushes. Just so you know, all of them are dorks.

Please send me asks to keep me motivated while I’m off work! Thirsty thoughts, Most likely to, reactions, life updates, and general gibberish welcomed!!

Namjoon:

If Namjoon has a crush on you he gets extra clumsy. In his head, he is trying to be the most sophisticated person on earth, think W sexy numkim Namjoon. however in reality he is actually fumbling at every step, stuttering and tripping his way through conversations, beating himself up a little inside every time he rambles on a bit too long about something. Eventually, he just gives up on trying to impress you because he is too in his head and thinks he doesn't have a chance. Ironically that is when he manages to be more comfortable around you and stops breaking things. He still info dumps, but because he is a little less self-conscious about it, he allows it to flow more naturally and you can have a proper conversation without him disappearing to berate himself for talking too much. If the crush progresses to you hanging out he will always bring a little gift, sometimes snacks, sometimes a trinket that makes him think of you. He will send you pictures of things in nature that remind him of you, and take you to museums where certain sculptures or paintings reflect his feelings or your likeness. 

Seokjin:

None stop trying to make you laugh. Probably refers to himself as worldwide handsome a lot to garner your attention like: "Hey Y/N, did you know they call me WWH?", or "Did you miss my WWH face?". It's a good job that he is in fact very pretty or it would get annoying. Although you tell him every time that it annoys you while using the opportunity to slap/feel up his bicep. He stops by your workplace every day to try and see you, but he is trying to be subtle as he does it, making up genuine excuses as to why he is there. Gets exceedingly disappointed when your coworkers tell him you are on a break because it would be too suspicious if he came back later on. 

Yoongi:

He starts by offering you some of his food, claiming he has too much and he thought you might not have eaten yet (It's 10:30 am, of course, you haven't eaten yet). Then he is bringing in bigger meals claiming to be trying new recipes and then always making too much (He is trying new recipes, they happen to be some of your favourites. He is also sizing up the recipe to have enough for you both and more). He will invite you to listen in on some tracks he is working on, saying they are nowhere near finished but he wants an outside opinion (They are mostly finished, and mostly about you).

Hoseok:

Strikes me as a straight forward man. You are absolutely going to know if he has a crush on you. There is no messing about he just asks you out... and then hyperventilates about it as soon as he is behind a closed door. It doesn't matter if you answered yes or no that was the most fear-inducing thing he has ever done, debut stage included. He keeps the brave front when around you at all times though. He is very good at pretending to be confident and charming even when his heart is trying to beat out of his ribcage. He makes a point of kissing your hand when he sees you, like the way you giggle and blush.

Jimin:

Similar to Namjoon, goes from being the most coordinated guy in the world to tripping over his own shoes. He blushes furiously every time you walk in the room and struggles to form full sentences. The others rip the shit out of him for being so nervous when you leave. He spends most of his time with his head in his hands hiding the red in his cheeks rather than making eye contact. Eventually, the butterflies die down and he decides he needs to man up and make a move. He refuses to let Jeon - couldn't make eye contact with a woman until he turned twenty-two - Jungkook make fun of him for being anxious, so he swallows the fear and makes a move. Then his flirting becomes relentless: He leans against walls and cages you in a little, he uses pickup lines and keeps calling you beautiful, and he refers to you with pet names. He tries everything he can to make you as flustered as you made him before he asks you out, god-forbid you fight flirty fire with fire.

Taehyung:

He follows you around like a lost puppy when he can. If he is around you will never have to carry anything or open a door. He gives you expensive gifts that you aren't allowed to refuse, if you do they just end up at your house later on in the day. He claims most of them are leftovers from brand deals, but some of them are coming from brands you swear they've never worked with. He frequently brings you smoothies and snacks too. Even if he isn't around he will have them delivered to your work, sometimes for your whole office, not just you. If you try to tell him to stop he just makes the tata mic face until you come to a compromise that he will stop sending you drinks if you let him take you out for one. 

Jungkook:

If he figures out he has a crush on you, you will not see him for 8-16 days. The first day he realises he will look at you with the widest eyes and blinks a little too slowly, he then excuses himself as soon as possible. He then spends days in his house typing and erasing a text to send to you. It gives him a heart attack when typing bubbles appear because that means you've seen him lurking. He eventually figures out what he wants to do with his crush and then you struggle to get rid of him, not that you necessarily want to, although he did almost follow you into a bathroom once because he was too busy talking and not paying attention to where you were going. When he gets drunk on his own at home he always texts you, nothing serious or even damning, he just is genuinely missing you. It probably comes across wrong because its always 2am, but he is innocently just wondering how you are. Once you fall in to a conversation it is obvious that it wasn't meant as a booty call, as much as you sometimes might wish it was.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Emergency request? I’m not sure if this will count as an emergency request but I’ll let you decide if it does. Anyway, this year has been hectic so far. I started a new job at the beginning of the year and now I’m needing to find a place to move. While I did find a place, I’ve severely underestimated everything that went into buying/ moving. There’s SO much paperwork, and it’s LONG paperwork too, so many additional costs and expenses being thrown at you left and right on top of the down payment and closing costs, not to mention that I’ll still need to get utensils and furniture while still having enough for bills and mortgage. The whole process can take months to go through, too. Thankfully, I’m blessed that I’m not doing it alone, but it’s still been greatly scary and stressful and sad and exhausting and exciting at times. It’s a whole roller coaster of emotions honestly. And I think I’ll have to leave my childhood cat with my parents, too.

Anyway, sorry for the long yap. I know many people experience this, but if this counts as an emergency then I’d like to request a little moving out/ in fic. I’ve been overwhelmed lately and I haven’t really even thought about who I wanted it to be with even while writing this. Honestly, I’ve been kinda a Dark simp, way before linked universe, but I’m not sure if he’ll make a good fit for this (though I think he would make a good house husband, having someone love him for once would change him and I will forever die on that hill.) I’m kinda thinking about something sweet and cute about the reader and them buying a place and moving in together, whether it’s just slice of life stuff, cooking together, decorating together, etc. If Dark doesn’t work for you, then I’d be happy with Wild or Twilight as well. I just know they’d make good house husbands! Thank you so much, though! If everything goes well with the current repairs and paperwork and finances, I’ll get to start moving out in March!

Omg no this totally counts!! I'm not at the moving stage yet because I'm still in college, but I totally understand the stress that comes with transitioning to a new place. Don't ever apologize for sharing your feelings, and I truly hope that everything works out for you in the end. You've got this!!

(Also it's no problem to write for Dark. I haven't done him before, but I did a fair bit of character study for this request, so thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to practice my skills <33)

Our Way Out

Pairing: Dark Link x Reader

Warning(s):

Notes: Honestly I had tears in my eyes when this was done. Partly inspired by THIS lovely work <33

Masterlist

You weren't sure what exactly had drawn you to the house on the hill. It was small, pale in color, and the floorboards had definitely seen better days, but it was home, and that was all that mattered.

The deck creaked under your boots as you stepped to the front door, fumbling around the interior of your satchel for the key, which was a bit hard when it was absolutely stuffed with various vegetables, but you prevailed, raising the small item to the light before using it to open the door. Ever since moving in two weeks ago, your boyfriend had always teased you for letting it loose in your clothes and other belongings, but he could go suck an egg because you were an adult, damnit!

"I'm home!" you called, stepping over the foyer and into the home. Shutting the door with a thud, you bent to place the satchel down and begin the arduous process of removing your boots–

–until a pair of arms curled around your waist and a heavy weight settled on your back. Your stomach flipped when something nuzzled the shell of your ear, and a rumbling baritone filled the small space.

"Did you get the carrots?"

"Big and thick," you flashed Dark a sly grin over your shoulder, resisting the urge to grab a gentle handful of stark white hair and pull him in for a kiss. Fortunately, the allure of a good joke was too much, and you giggled cheekily: "Just how you like it, right?"

There was a huff of breath, accompanied by a nip to your ear, but not even an act of Hylia could keep the amusement from his tone. "Actually, I believe that's–"

"Shut your mouth," you interrupted with a guffaw. "Admit it: you fell right into that!"

Silence.

Boots half-on, you turned in his grasp, allowing your back to be pressed to the thick oak of the door. Dark skin, pale hair, eyes that glowed with the ferocity of a thousand bloody moons, and the first thought in your mind when you looked at him was nothing short of beautiful. Dark's ears perked when you cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking over smooth flesh. Unlike so many others, he wore his scars on the inside, bared secrets shining in blood-bright irises.

For a beat, nothing was said.

Dark's lips ticked up. "I think I'd prefer a different kind of falling."

You couldn't help the laughter than bubbled from your throat. "Pfft– shall I get the bandages?"

"You wound me," he said, pointing in that faux way you loved so dearly. His arms loosened, hands coming down to rest on your hips. He didn't squeeze or pinch or try to entice you into some other salacious activity, but you knew he was feeling you all the same. That was fine; his hips were better anyways.

Still, you grinned, never one to resist the allure of a terrible joke.

"Want me to kiss it better?"

His smile was diamond-sharp and twice as pretty.

"I'd love nothing more."

"No."

"But–" you hefted the portrait–an heirloom that had watched over your family for the past few centuries–into your arms in an attempt to make him waver. It did not. "–it's an heirloom! It's too pretty to go into storage!"

"Absolutely not," your boyfriend's glare narrowed until his eyes were mere crimson slits as he viewed the item with what you could only describe as unadulterated hatred. Gods, he could be so dramatic sometimes. Who gave a fuck if the Hero of Time was depicted in one of the corners?!

You set the portrait back on the ground before Dark got the brilliant idea of punching the offending depiction into the stratosphere, cleverly maneuvering it behind you before turning to face him once more, arms folded across your chest. "How about this: we cover him. I've got rags. And tree sap."

"You truly believe tree sap will fix this?" he all but hissed, leaning ever-so-slightly to the left to shoot metaphorical daggers at the portrait

"That's rich

"It's him," oh dear, you knew that voice, the one he used when he was about to go full demon.

"It's a tree!"

"You're a tree!"

You pinched your temples. What in Hyrule was he trying to do, intimidate you?? After literal years of knowing each other, it would take more than his 'scary' voice to faze you. A lot more. "Then why are you the one always getting wood in the morning?"

Full stop.

Dark blinked, the frustration bleeding from his expression faster than sand in a hourglass. His mouth opened, then closed, and you felt an unexpected flash of pleasure when he seemed completely and totally without a rebuttal for that one. It wasn't like you were making things up, either, considering he was the one who woke you up with all the subconscious humping. Who knew the evil (you begged to differ) reflection of the famed Hero of Time could be such a... well, you couldn't quite conjure a term to describe his lust, but it was great. And addicting.

Cheeks darker than his name, Dark's brow furrowed as he fought to regain control of himself and, by definition, the situation. "You... I... we are not keeping that."

You raised a brow. You didn't budge. "You wanna bet?"

His eye twitched.

"I don't like this," Dark hissed, fingers intertwined tightly with yours as he tugged the hood of his navy cloak even further down his face. Being the 'scourge of Hyrule' wasn't necessarily a well-respected title in Hyrule, so you had to take extra precautions when going out to make sure he didn't get challenged to a duel in the middle of the street or, worse, denied premium discounts on account of the whole 'being evil' debacle, though it was a bit of a shock seeing your boyfriend snap his fingers and instantly become a mediocre white man so you two could traipse through Castle Town like the troublemakers you were.

"Link, I'm sorry, but you don't like anything," you whispered back without any heat.

"I like you," he said without missing a beat.

"Aww!" you exclaimed, clapping a hand over your heart, startling several passersby in your excitement. "Oh my Goddesses, honey, I–"

"Don't mention it."

"–was going to ask for the rupee pouch so we could get candles, but I like you too."

He looked ready to rebuff your statement, until the works sunk in a bit and he raised a hilariously black eyebrow, brown-black eyes narrow in confusion. "Candles? Why?"

"It's so we don't stumble around at night if one of us needs to pee," you explained, feeling quite proud of yourself for thinking ahead. That, and how pissed he had gotten two nights ago when he awoke hours before the sun and discovered you had 'vanished without a trace', though watching him skid through the front door, sword in hand, on your way back from the outhouse was unfairly hilarious once you realized some eldritch horror had indeed not taken refuge in your home.

Dark's pale nose wrinkled. It looked strange when his skin was so... pasty, but you loved him nonetheless. "You forget that I don't need to perform your Hylian..." he grimaced but not at you. "bodily functions."

"But I do, so we're getting candles," you said, gently pulling him in the direction of the Bazaar, which you hoped to whatever deity was out there actually was in stock because, hands-off as he may appear, Dark had the terrifyingly-sweet tendency to stop at nothing to get something when he truly thought you wanted it, and you really didn't feel like watching him vault over the counter to threaten the clerk. Again.

"Then let us buy these accursed candles," he said in a tone that sounded more griping than anything, but the way he was holding hands with you told a very different story.

You grinned, laughing softly when he leaned in to press the softest peck to the apple of your cheek. "Don't worry, we'll be in and out of there before you know it."

Three hours later, you were beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. What had originally been a quick run to the Bazaar had devolved into a full-blown shopping spree involving nearly half the shops of Castle Town. Dark, despite his whining, was a surprisingly good sport when you strong-armed him into picking between two multicolored futons, convinced him to rent a horse and cart to carry home the spoils, and most importantly, offered a full sentence of advice on what rug would fit your newly-acquired home.

By the time the sun began to dip into the orange horizon, the cart was nearly sky-high, piled with all sorts of furniture and knickknacks. Grunting, you hefted the last of the shield mounts up and over the edge, clapping your hands together in satisfaction. Your boyfriend, who had been amusing himself with hitching the poor horse to the cart, turned to survey the damage. His gaze slowly traveled up the frankly impressive mountain of items, then dropped to you.

"Happy?" he asked, though there was no judgement behind his eyes. he genuinely wanted to know if you were satisfied, and it made your heart stutter in your chest, though you masked it with a big grin.

"Very!" you exclaimed, walking over to wrap him in a tight hug, uncaring of the fact that you were quite literally in the middle of the street. Granted, it was a lot less crowded than before, but that didn't mean there weren't children around to regard your purchases with wide, sparkling eyes, or adults to do the same, but instead for the respected purpose of gossip. As you pressed close, cheek practically molded to his chest, Dark's hand came up to pet your head, smoothing your hair down in a way that had you practically melting in his arms. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft as he gazed down at you.

"Good."

Without warning, he scooped you into his arms, hopping onto the driver's ledge of the cart and taking the reins--ignoring your yelp of surprise–gently snapping them to get things moving. "Ah, ah, don't move," he chided when you attempted un-wrap your legs from his waist, wrapping an arm over the tops of your hips to keep you pressed firmly against his front like a errant animal. "You're perfect where you are."

Dear Hylia, you were pretty sure the entirety of Castle Town was watching you ride, butt first, through the streets, which was definitely not how you wanted to be remembered should you return-- ah, and now his forearm was dropping perilously low on your backside. "Link."

"Yes?"

You buried your face in his shoulder because, Goddesses, the bastard knew what he was doing. "I'd really appreciate if you didn't feel my ass up for all of Hyrule to see."

A haughty sniff was his answer. "I have no idea what you mean, beloved."

You pinched his thigh. "Eyes on the road, hun."

"My eyes have not strayed."

Yeah, sure.

You huffed and, a second later, the arm returned to its previous place over the tops of your hips. "Better?" Dark asked softly, and you could have sworn he sounded vaguely apologetic. The town was beginning to fade into the road, giving way to familiar forest, and a sense of comfort washed over you.

"Much."

It wasn't that you didn't like being touched by him, but the position was already enough and, honestly, you really didn't want to draw attention to either one of you, lest someone realize that, beneath the black hair and even blacker eyes, he looked eerily similar to the Hero of Time.

"I love you," you murmured, turning your head so your lips brushed the skin of his neck. A soft shiver wracked through him when you pressed a soft kiss to the pale flesh.

"And I you," he responded without missing a damn beat, sneaking a tender peck to the top of your head. "To the end of time, and beyond."

"Charmer," you teased, cheeks pinking; he had this way of surprising you at the most random moments, and it was one of the things you loved about him.

"You bring it out in me," said Dark Link, scourge of Hyrule and your terrible, wonderful lover. His body was warm against the buffering chill of the approaching dusk, and you found yourself snuggling closer to escape the wind, mind straying what you had planned for later.

"I was thinking tea, for when we're home, and you can help me get all the stuff inside. We've got enough ingredients for soup, too. How does that sound?"

"I'd love nothing more," he responded, skillfully guiding the horse down the narrow path to your home, which you had chosen specifically for it's closeness to civilization, yet significant distance from the main road, which maintained the illusion of solitude. "And after?"

Dear gods. He was insatiable. You bit your lip to keep the laughter at bay. "We could... christen the futon?"

"And the dresser, I'd expect."

"Naturally," you shrugged. "But if I get butt-splinters, you're dealing with them."

At the mention the words 'I' and 'butt-splinters', Dark paused. "...Perhaps we shall have to return for a mat–"

You cut him off with a laugh.

"Hey."

It was dark out. A beam of silvery moonlight streamed in through the window, casting an almost ethereal glow over your boyfriend's face. He had shifted to his regular form as soon as your feet touched solid ground, and you couldn't have been happier when it only took two short hours to drag everything inside, though the approaching night had forced you to be lazy and retire early to recuperate–christening the futon would have wait, likely when it wasn't in the middle of the dining room with a thousand other things stacked atop it–but when you cracked your eyes open to find him very obviously watching you sleep, you couldn't help the concern that befell your expression.

"You're awake," he rumbled, voice heavier from disuse. It was a well-known secret that he didn't need to rest like you did, but he was usually more... discreet when it came right down to it.

"So are you," you reached up to rub your bleary eyes as they adjusted to the lighting. Dark shifted so he was on his side, fully facing you with a fist propped beneath his cheek, sheet pulled down just enough to reveal a very generous peek of his chest and stomach. You could have sworn the red in his eyes was pulsing. "You didn't have another dream, did you?"

It was yet another well-known secret that, when he did find it in him to 'rest', it was often plagued with things terrible enough to have him shooting up with a breathless gasp, then jumping from bed to stalk the home for enemies. Most times, you could get away with wrapping him in a tight hug, but there was never complete certainty, so you had begun asking.

But Dark merely shook his head, watching you with a neutral expression. "No," his voice, still rough from 'slumber', rasped. "Thinking."

"Of?"

"You."

Aw, really? How sweet! You found it in yourself to smile, scooting up the pillow to copy his pose, the last traces of exhaustion still clinging to the back of your mind. "Me too," you admitted softly, keeping your voice low so as to not disrupt the fragile air between you. 

Dark blinked. He hadn't been expecting that answer. "Truly?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" You asked. It was a joke, because, really, you hadn't, and he knew it too. You let your hand drop from beneath your cheek, scooting forward until you were a hairs-breath from each other; eyes searching, hearts yearning.

Inky arms wrapped around you: one slid to cradle your head while the other traced the divots of your spine through your tunic. Soft breath fanned over your skin, and it was with no shred of hesitation that your leg slung across the curve of his hip over the thin sheet. I would die for you, whispered his eyes, because he would always be a man of action than words.

Me too, you hoped the kiss you planted on his nose conveyed.

His grip tightened. You allowed a laugh to bubble from your throat. "We're not sleeping tonight, are we?"

"Not unless you want to," Dark said smoothly. He didn't sleep, but he understood that you had to. Usually. The way he stroked your back was giving you ideas that dared not be ignored. 'For you, I'll wait an eternity' went unsaid.

And, when he kissed you–like a lover, like the only person in the world–you believed it.

Y'all have no idea how close I was to writing smut 😭

[manunelle]

Inside the Carboard Box (Ikemen Prince Cat! AU)

I wrote this in mid-2022, but forgot it in the depths of my drive. To sum it up, it's an AU where the princes are cats and Emma is their owner. I might continue this or not.

English is not my first language.

_____________________________..._______________________________

"Excuse me, is it alright if I go out for lunch now?" Emma asked, trying to hide her impatience.

The manager lifted her gaze from the computer in front of her, blinking in confusion. She stared at Emma, squinting her eyes as if she couldn't grasp that simple question, then glanced at the wall clock, quickly understanding the situation.

"Oh, heavens, you haven't had lunch yet?! I completely forgot about you!"

Emma gave a fake smile, something that was becoming increasingly common since she got this job.

“Haha, no problem,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m heading out now. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Yes, yes, take as much time as you need!” she said, smiling timidly at Emma.

She almost felt bad for being annoyed with the woman. Almost.

She left the building in a hurry, nearly sprinting toward her apartment. Fortunately, she didn’t live far from work—in fact, the proximity was the main reason Emma had applied for such a boring job.

In less than 10 minutes, she was already in front of the complex, fumbling with the set of keys in her hands. As she unlocked the building door, something across the street caught her eye—a filthy, lonely cardboard box.

There was nothing special about the object, yet it was as if something was desperately calling out to Emma. For a moment, she could’ve sworn she saw the lid of the box move, but she quickly shook her head, convincing herself it wasn't worth the time to investigate.

She entered the building, shutting the door firmly behind her. Emma climbed up to her apartment, unlocked the door with ease, and stepped into her home sweet home.

She remained silent, listening carefully. Waiting.

“ Meow, meow, meow!” 

In less than a minute, a blonde furball ran toward her, affectionately rubbing against her legs.

Emma smiled, picking up the cat and gently hugging it. Immediately, the animal began to purr loudly, rubbing its face against hers.

"Riooo! Did you miss me?"

The cat meowed again, as if to say, "Isn't that obvious?"

"You must be hungry, right? Come on, I'll give you some of your favorite."

“Meeeow.”

She walked to the kitchen with Rio hopping behind her. She grabbed a saucer from one of the cabinets and served some of her pet's favorite pouch food. She watched him eagerly lick the food, a gentle smile on her face.

The woman didn’t know when it had happened, but Rio had become the main reason she kept moving forward with her head held high. She had found him abandoned on a winter night, about a year ago, sleeping in front of the door of the building where she lived. She took him inside her apartment and discovered an injury on one of his paws, quickly tending to it.

She had planned to take him to a shelter once he was well enough, but that never happened.

Maybe it was his adorable blue eyes, or the therapeutic sound of his purring, or perhaps even the excited way he meowed every time she came back from work, as if he had truly spent the entire day waiting for her, just for her. She couldn’t say exactly why, but she couldn’t bring herself to let Rio go back then, and she wouldn't even dream of doing so now. 

Sighing, she took her lunch out of the fridge and quickly ate her meal. Although she still had a good forty minutes of her lunch break left, she wanted to stop by the library to return some books, so she couldn’t afford to take too long.

A dripping sound pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked through the kitchen window, curious.

"Was it supposed to rain today?" she asked, casting an inquisitive glance at Rio.

He lifted his head from the saucer, licking himself greedily.

“Mroow?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Emma placed her empty plate in the sink and went in search of an umbrella through the messy house. Although she didn’t have many pieces of furniture, the house was filled with books in every room. The only organized place in the house was probably where the bed she bought for Rio was – a bed that had been completely rejected, by the way, as the cat always slept in her bed.

She grabbed an umbrella and picked up the books she needed to return, dragging herself to the entrance of the apartment.

“Meeeow!”

She smiled kindly at the cat, who looked at her sadly. He always did that when Emma needed to leave, as if trying to convince her to stay with that simple gesture.

Crouching down, she gently stroked the cat's head, laughing as the poor thing rubbed against her hand, trying to prolong the affection as much as possible.

“I need to go, Rio. I’ll play with you more later, ok?” 

He meowed again, not at all happy about her leaving.

She stood up, left the apartment, and quickly shut the door. If she didn’t do that, Rio would surely find a way to leap into the hallway, and Emma didn’t want to provoke the building manager’s wrath again.

In front of the building, Emma opened her umbrella and promptly held it over her head. Impulsively, she glanced across the street, nearly jumping in shock when she realized someone was watching her.

A black cat was staring at her intently, as if trying to assess whether Emma was a threat or not. It was sitting in front of the cardboard box from earlier—was it the one inside the box before?

Unable to resist the temptation, she carefully crossed the street, approaching the animal slowly. Despite Emma making sure not to make any sudden movements to avoid scaring it, the cat didn’t seem intimidated at all, scrutinizing her from head to toe with intense focus.

She smiled at him, crouching down and slowly extending her hand. The cat stretched its neck, calmly sniffing her hand as she watched patiently. The animal lifted its violet eyes from her hand, staring directly at her. Slightly surprised by the cat’s unusual behavior, she quickly returned to smiling at it.

That seemed to win him over, as slowly, cautiously, the cat rubbed its head against Emma’s palm.

She gently petted his wet fur, chuckling softly as he rubbed against her knees. The cat narrowed its eyes, as if trying to decide on its next move, then suddenly turned toward the cardboard box, looking from the box to Emma, and back again.

She blinked in confusion, approaching the box and slowly opening it.

Eyes-widened, a sound of pure amazement escaping her lips.

Eight cats were sleeping inside the box, huddled together in a tangle of paws and tails. Although they clearly weren’t kittens, they were severely malnourished, which likely made it easier for them all to fit inside the box.

Did they have no owner? Or had they been abandoned?

She gazed at them sadly, unable to stop herself from remembering when she had found Rio at her doorstep—thin, injured, and sad, completely alone in the world.

At least these little ones have each other, she thought.

Emma placed her umbrella over the cardboard box, carefully covering them so they wouldn’t get any wetter. It was the least she could do for them.

Although the young woman was tempted to take them to her apartment, she knew she wasn’t allowed to. She still remembered how much she had to argue with the building manager to keep Rio, so she already knew the answer to her request to shelter nine more cats in her small apartment.

Someone will surely take care of them, Emma thought, trying to convince herself of that. Someone other than me.

She petted the black cat one last time, saying goodbye. He stared at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t understand what she was doing.

Emma quickly looked away, feeling guilty. Turning her back on the cat, she began her journey to the library, glancing back a few times to make sure the cat wasn’t following her.

He remained there, staring at her, but that didn’t make Emma feel any better.

"Someone will rescue them, Emma," she said, sighing heavily. "Don't you dare do it, Emma."

She quickened her pace, distancing herself from the box as fast as possible.

.

"Have a good rest, Emma," the manager said, bidding her farewell. "And I'm sorry for today, okay? I promise it won't happen again."

Emma smiled, waving goodbye. She knew the same thing would happen the next day, but she was too tired to be frustrated with the woman.

Maybe it was because it was Friday, and the day had dragged on unbearably slowly, leaving her more tired than usual. Or maybe it was because she still felt bad for simply abandoning a box full of hungry, filthy, and possibly sick kittens.

She descended the building’s stairs, a yawn escaping her lips.

Emma was sure that by the time she returned home, the cats wouldn’t be there anymore. Either someone would have taken them, or they had gone off on their own. She thought about this to try to convince herself that she hadn’t neglected a serious situation, but her discomfort only grew as soon as she stepped out of the building.

Sitting on the wet sidewalk was the black cat from before, waiting for her.

At least that’s what she thought, because he seemed to recognize her immediately. He bounced in her direction, rubbing against Emma’s leg and looking into her eyes with an expression so tired that she thought she was seeing a reflection of her own face.

She stretched down and picked up the cat from the ground, carefully cradling him in her arms. Although he was clearly not used to it, he stayed still, staring at her silently.

Emma smiled, gently stroking the cat's head.

"I'm sorry for earlier, okay? I wasn't thinking straight." The cat narrowed its eyes, as if debating whether to forgive her or claw her eyes out. "Let's go find your family, alright?"

This seemed to provoke a reaction from the feline, who widened its eyes and squirmed desperately, jumping to the ground and hopping quickly toward Emma's apartment. It kept turning its head back, checking if she was following him.

Rio was an intelligent cat, but Emma could tell without a doubt that this cat made hers look like an amateur.

As soon as she arrived, the first thing she saw was her umbrella, which made her feel a little more at ease. At least they hadn’t been exposed to the rain. She approached slowly and quietly, careful not to startle the group.

Emma stopped beside the cardboard box, opening it cautiously, but quickly shut it again upon hearing an angry hiss.

Of course they’re awake, she thought.

She exchanged glances with the black cat, who just watched her without offering any support.

"You could at least help, don't you think?" Emma muttered.

She could have sworn the cat's eyes gleamed mockingly, but she turned her attention back to the box. She tried to open it again, but quickly gave up the idea when she heard them (yes, plural!) growling.

"I'm sorry for leaving you here before," she said, gently stroking the box as if the object itself represented the animals it housed. "I'm going to take you to a warm place now, okay? I promise it will be better there, just hang on a little longer."

Almost magically, as if they could understand her, the growls ceased, replaced by an eager silence.

The black cat rubbed against her leg, and Emma smiled.

"Well, I hope Rio doesn't have a fit because of you guys," she said, struggling to lift the box. "Ugh, you’re definitely not light."

The trip across the street to her apartment on the third floor took longer than usual, and Emma thanked all the divine entities for not running into the building manager along the way. Once she finally made it into her apartment, followed all the way by the black cat, she staggered into the living room, placing the cardboard box on the floor as carefully as possible.

"Meow, meow, meow!" Rio entered the room, a look of pure joy on his face. However, as soon as he saw the box, his eyes widened, and he stared at it, alert. "Meow?"

"Yeah... Well, Rio. We have company," she said, opening the cardboard box and letting the chaos loose.

The first to jump out of the box was a cat with messy black fur, its golden eyes wildly scanning the room. It eyed Rio and Emma warily, ready to leap at any moment, but seemed to settle down a bit when it noticed the presence of the black cat.

Calmly, Emma sat down in front of the animal, which stared at her with wide eyes, as if deciding whether to flee or attack. She repeated the gesture from earlier, extending her hand and letting him determine for himself that she wasn’t a threat. The cat sniffed the palm and back of her hand carefully, until, cautiously, it rubbed its face against it.

Emma gently stroked its head, face, and neck, trying to calm and comfort it. This seemed to work, as within a minute, the animal was purring contentedly, rubbing against her and encouraging her to continue the affection.

A wave of agony swept through her stomach—how long had this poor thing been deprived of moments like this? She was almost certain that he had once been a pet, simply by his gentle and needy personality, and she couldn’t help but feel pity at the sight of the cat desperately seeking her affection.

She lifted her gaze, still stroking the cat, which was now rubbing against her stomach, and was startled to see that nearly all the cats had stretched their heads out of the box, staring at her intensely.

The second to jump out was a brown-furred cat with red eyes, who, although seeming calmer than the others, still looked around cautiously. After him, a cat with rather peculiar fur—a shiny gray that could almost be mistaken for lilac—approached Emma immediately, sniffing her curiously and promptly rubbing against her legs, meowing long and melodiously.

Two cats with blonde fur jumped out of the box, each looking at Emma in completely different ways. The first was larger, with thicker fur, staring at the woman coldly with his blue eyes. The second was significantly smaller, but seemed ready to attack anyone who came near, whether human or animal.

Slowly, a large orange cat bounced out of the box, looking around the room with disinterest. When his eyes landed on Emma, he slowly walked over to her, rubbing against her leg and purring when she scratched under his chin.

Finally, a gray cat hesitantly left the box, staring at Emma with red, worried eyes. This made her a little uneasy, but she only realized something was wrong when he and the black cat from earlier approached the box and stuck their heads inside, peering at something there.

She gently lifted both the black and orange cats off her lap, carefully placing them on the floor. Ignoring their grumbles, she slowly approached the box, her heart breaking as she saw what was inside.

A gray cat with red eyes, exactly like the one next to her, was lying inside, an expression of pure exhaustion on its face. But what really caught Emma's attention was its bloodied hind paw – perhaps a dog had attacked it, or maybe even a malicious person had injured it.

She frowned, trying to push those thoughts out of her mind. There were no vets open at this hour, so she needed to treat him as quickly as possible so she could take him to one tomorrow. Fortunately, she already had some experience with injured animals thanks to Rio, so she had an idea of what she needed to do.

Emma carefully lifted the animal, but even so, the poor thing moaned in pain. This seemed to stir the others, who followed her to where she kept her first aid kit. The gray cat circled her while she cleaned the wound of the other, watching every move she made with agitation and concern, while the black cat stood still by her side, as if trusting her skills.

She bandaged the kitten's wound, laying him down on the soft bed that had been forgotten by Rio. He looked at her warily, but seemed too tired to offer any resistance.

The young woman felt something rubbing against her leg and looked down to see the other gray cat desperately nuzzling against her. She gently lifted him from the ground, holding him close to her chest – he didn't purr, but seemed grateful for the gesture.

She turned her gaze to the others, watching them quietly. God, what had she gotten herself into?

The black cat was bouncing excitedly around the room, sniffing and investigating curiously, as if this were the most fun adventure of his life. The orange cat seemed to have found the perfect spot for a nap – inside a laundry basket full of clothes that Emma urgently needed to fold. One of the blonde cats was sitting on a pile of books, while the gray cat had already knocked over at least two of her precious stacks. The brown cat was gently rubbing against Emma's legs, and the smaller cat watched her from behind the bookshelf, as if still not entirely convinced of her good intentions.

She sighed, trying not to panic.

"You must be hungry, right?" she said, carefully releasing the gray cat, who landed gracefully on the rug. "I'll find something for you to eat."

The mention of food was enough to make the animals even more excited – even the calmer ones, like the orange cat and the blonde cat, got up and ran toward her, meowing desperately.

The nine cats followed her into the kitchen, meowing in unison. She feared the noise might annoy the neighbors, or worse, alert the building manager to her little infraction, so she hurried her movements.

Thank God she had taken advantage of that promotion on cat food and pouches, so she had enough to feed the little troop of cats that were hopping around her apartment excitedly. She served the pouches on some saucers, and the cats pounced on the food as soon as she placed the dishes on the floor. While they desperately licked their meal, she set out some bowls with dry food and water, leaving them on the floor for when they finished their snack.

They were incredibly thin, and the way they desperately devoured their food made it clear that it had been a long time since their last meal. Emma couldn't understand how anyone could abandon such defenseless and vulnerable animals. She felt a rage she didn't even know she was capable of.

“Meooooooow!!” 

She looked toward the kitchen entrance, where Rio was staring at her desperately. The poor thing ran toward her, practically climbing her until he was in her arms, anxiously rubbing his little face against Emma's neck, as if trying to mark her.

Emma laughed, wrapping him in a comforting hug.

"It's alright, Rio, I'm not replacing you," she murmured, stroking his soft fur.

Rio grumbled, letting out a grouchy meow that was far from satisfied.

"You've been in the same situation as them, remember? I couldn't leave them there, just like I didn't leave you."

Rio kept grumbling softly, but he couldn't hide his happiness at being hugged and petted by his beloved owner.

Emma looked down, surprised to see that all nine cats were watching her attentively. Perhaps they were surprised by the way she was treating Rio.

She placed Rio on the floor, and he hissed at the other cats before running out of the room, likely to hide under the bed. She let the cats continue their meal in the kitchen and went to the bathroom, filling the bathtub with warm water and searching for the shampoo she had used during the few times she needed to bathe Rio.

The cats were adorable, but they were filthy and probably infested with fleas. And since she was already breaking the rules of the complex, the least she could do was clean them so they wouldn’t dirty the apartment any further.

She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the first cat she saw – the one with soft, blonde fur. A low growl escaped the cat's lips as she lifted him off the floor, but he didn't struggle to escape, although Emma could feel he might scratch her arms from top to bottom at any moment.

The moment she placed him in the bathtub, the cat meowed furiously, giving her a deathly glare. She gave a crooked smile, gently petting him as an apology. This seemed to calm him down, though he continued to stare at her as if he were tempted to scratch her face off.

Once she finished with the cat, she dried him carefully and let him loose in the living room, leaving him to his own devices. There were still eight cats to bathe and dry, and she was almost certain they wouldn't be as calm as his brother.

After finishing bathing all of them, she began organizing the living room, moving piles of books to clear space so they could rest and sleep without destroying anything of sentimental value – meaning, her books. It took some time to finish, especially since the black cat with golden eyes and the gray cat with red eyes kept walking and rubbing against her legs, almost causing Emma to fall more than once.

She grabbed some blankets and arranged them into small nests on the floor so they could sleep comfortably. This seemed to please them enough, as they began kneading the fabric, making biscuits with their little paws. 

Emma couldn't suppress a sound of admiration as she watched the smallest of them knead one of the blankets incessantly, moving closer to pet his head.

“Ouch!”

The cat greeted her with a scratch, probably because he had been startled by her sudden movement. The other cats looked in her direction, frightened.

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, and Emma could easily feel their anxiety. She turned her gaze back to the little cat, meeting his nervous blue eyes. His whole body was trembling, and his fur was standing on end, as if he was expecting a violent reaction from her.

Slowly, she gently stroked his head, watching as his posture gradually relaxed.

"You don't have to be afraid, okay? I’m not going to hurt you."

The little cat approached, shakily rubbing against her hand and licking the scratch he had given her, as if apologizing.

"Ha ha, it's alright, don't worry about it. I'm sorry for scaring you, little one."

That seemed to be enough to calm the animal, as he began to gently rub his head against Emma's hand. She returned the affection, placing him on a small pile of blankets she had arranged.

"Sleep well tonight, okay?" she said, stroking his silky fur once more. "If you need anything, I'll be in the other room."

The cat stared at her, probably not understanding a word of what she had said. Truly, she had gotten very spoiled because of Rio.

She sighed, tired. Thank God tomorrow is Saturday, she thought.

Emma walked heavily toward the bathroom, leaving the cats to settle in. She desperately needed a shower and a good night's sleep – her day had been way too stressful.

Once she finished her hot shower, she tiptoed as quietly as she could to the living room, peeking at them. She closed her eyes, stifling a squeal. She would have to be careful not to die from so much cuteness.

All of them were asleep, which wasn’t surprising, as their day had likely been much worse than Emma's. The two gray cats were lying on the bed that belonged (or rather, used to belong) to Rio, nestled against each other. The orange cat was leaning against the brown cat, completely stretched out, while the black cat curled up against the small blonde cat, who was rolled into a little ball. On the other side of the room, the other blonde cat was also curled up, though it seemed much more annoyed than its brother – not surprising, since the lilac (or was it gray?) cat had planted its two back paws on its little face.

She felt something rubbing against her leg and found the black cat, the one that had followed her from home to work and put her in that situation. His lilac eyes gazed deeply at Emma, as if he could read her mind. She smiled, crouching down to pet his soft, black fur.

"You really got me into a tough spot, huh? How do you plan to pay me for my services?"

The cat blinked calmly, not bothered by her question. She laughed softly, sliding her hand from the back of his neck down to the middle of his spine, and he purred quietly.

"I guess I'll have to accept your cuteness as payment after all."

She petted him one last time, then stood up and walked to her bedroom. When she turned on the light, she immediately met Rio's blue eyes, as he stared at her from atop the bed with a sleepy gaze.

She threw herself onto the bed, pulling the covers over her and burying her head in the pillow. She felt Rio kneading her back with his little paws, and Emma felt like she was in paradise.

Tomorrow, she would deal with her possessed building manager and the nine cats that needed food, water, medical care, and love. For now, she just needed to sleep.

She just hoped she wouldn't wake up to find her entire house destroyed.

[eliotlime]

November update post thing

Drawing of me watching short-form video content without sound vs one where I am lol

If you use short-form video platforms of any kind and would like to help me with my survey you can do so here! Though I'll probably be closing it sometime next week (2nd November 2024 ish) to collate the data for submission.

I've got a metric tonne of deadlines due next week but you know what it's blog update time!!

This is also not going to be scheduled to post because I usually write these on the 29th but I forgot! So it's getting posted now!!

💀 School..

Yeap as I've said I'm in school so that's still in progress, I have completely no idea what I'm doing everyday and as it turns out no time to worry about it either I got deadlines baby!!!

I mean in theory I understand but it's all a big question mark to me, like i need to be reassured like a nervous dog that I'm doing the right thing and what not

And because of that I'm real sorry about pushing the Abacelsus zine to the back burner, I actually got quite a lot of it done before I had to lock in for school of course.

And though I said I had a lot of sketches I didn't post well they were shittier than I liked them to be so I wanted to make it look nicer. Oh well dems the breaks.

Another screenie of my school work, they didn't really go into depth about how to specifically design stuff so it's basically me frankenstien-ing stuff I've seen existing and just trying my best lol

I mean.. overall it's funnnn... i guess... I do like projects but everyone in my class are adults with established jobs or goals. Even those who are around my age seem to know what they're aiming for too, feels like I'm an unemployed little sucker fumbling in the dark. Can be humiliating I won't lie, why is learning something new so embarrassing?

Aside from that I'm seeing people be so social online while studying too and it's almost mesmerizing, it's definitely survivor bias but those that can balance it are fascinating to me.

📖Anthology Update

Agh enough of that debbie downer bullshit, I'll tell you what I've also got due next week! That's right!! The drafts for my anthology!

Screenie of one of the panels I posted onto my ko-fi discord!

I'm not even half way done and it's due on the 6th of December. I'm beyond FUCKED. Anyway I can get it done by then but the school shit is sucking the life out of me through my ears.

☕ Ko-Fi Page

Deadlines aside I've also randomly launched my Ko-fi Membership page! I haven't quite had the time to properly promote it but it's there and I've been updating it every so often

I've got stuff up there already and comics of things that aren't polished (or sfw) enough for me to post. Especially if you're interested in my characters and would like to support me, here's a good hub to check all of it out!

The Ko-fi Discord updates the most frequently, basically every time I draw anything (Which is quite often!). The actual ko-fi gallery is only being updated every week to prevent spam.

Shout out to my one ko-fi member, wormfriend. Right now it's quite funny to have just the one but I definitely would like more so plz join!!! I promise I draw a lot!!!

🌯 Wrapping it up...

That's all I've got for you this month, real grind-y and uneventful but hey some moths are like that. I talked about opening my commissions again in December and I intend to keep that promise but as of yet the first week is not looking too hot haha. I'll consider it on the 7th but whuff it's real packed right now!

I don't have really anything else to say or add that isn't either

a) incredibly negative and self deprecating

or

b) cussing the shit out of disrespectful transphobic anonymous asks I've been getting

so I'm just going to end this hastily written blog update here and get back to work!

I leave you with this cool down drawing of a honda civic and my attempts at a motorcycle that can also hover in the air.

As always thank you so much for reading and I've been so busy I haven't even had time to work on my annual redraw that's been sitting in my folders gah! If you’d like to support me, here’s my ko-fi page again and my itchi.io & gumroad as well.

If you have any questions or just generally want to talk to me, my DMs and askbox is always open! Any professional enquires can be sent towards my email as well: eliotlime@gmail.com

XOXO, Stay weird!

-Eliot :)

[the-ellia-west]

Raavas 1/3 - Feathered Sword

Enjoy! (Hopefully)

-------------------------------------------------

"With all due respect, you aren't getting any younger, sir."

"Ha!" Evellias touched a grey streak in his beard at the thought. "I suppose you're right. But I'm not dead yet!"

"If you're reckless, you could be by the end of the year."

"I'm reckless?"

"Not at the moment, but you could be if you start thinking you're invincible."

"I won't. Besides, I know my way around a sword Aery. Don't worry so much."

"It is my job to worry, sir." The guard put his hands behind his back. "You're the only protector we've got. This kingdom can't afford to lose you."

"Can't afford to lose my sword, you mean." Evellias raised an eyebrow, "You know just as well as I that the only reason they haven't taken it from me is because I'm the only one who can use it."

Aery started to speak, stopped, and continued. "You have protection nonetheless, sir."

"Well then, I may just have to use you for some other purpose, hm? How do you feel about errands, Aery?"

"No."

Evellias laughed, but a faint cry stopped both men in their tracks.

"Did you hear that, sir?"

"I did." The soldier reached for his sword. "What was that?"

"It sounded almost like a child." Aery knelt by the reeds. "It came from here."

"Almost bird-like." Evellias nodded. But just as he started to help, a strange feeling tugged in his chest. Almost like fuzzy strings wrapped around his heart, pulling him toward the water of the creek. The swordsman followed the pull but stopped as a faint glow caught his eye, pulsing faintly beneath the murky water. The warrior squinted at the cool light and slowly edged toward it. But as water soaked through the toe of his boot, the sigil carved into the center of the cross guards on his own sword burst into a light of its own.

A Protector's sword. But it couldn't be lit on its own.

The swordsman glanced around, steeled his resolve, and plunged into the water. He dropped under, reaching for the light. The tip of his finger brushed a hard object, and he fumbled with the metal for a moment before getting a grip on the hilt. Evellias pulled at the sword. It wouldn't budge.

The warrior pulled harder, bracing himself against a rock. And as he pushed himself to the last of his strength, the sword finally sprung free of the mud. Evellias flipped his hair back out of his face, brushing off the sword.

"Sir!" Aery stopped, catching sight of his boss standing in the middle of a creek. "What- Uh, never mind. Sir, you may want to come take a look at this."

"What?" The warrior hooked the sword to his belt beside his own and trotted over to Aery, the sword's light blazing brighter as he did so.

"It's a child, sir. A Harpy hatchling, to be precise."

"Why is it here?" Evellias frowned as the small bundle sniffled softly before continuing its tiny chirping cries.

"I'm not sure. But the nest looked like it had been abandoned." A pause stretched between the two. "We should kill it."

Evellias frowned and glanced at the sword. "No."

"What? Sir, we have to. If we let it loose in town, it could attack someone!"

"It's a baby. It doesn't know how to."

"Then we need to get rid of it before it learns."

"Aery," Evellias drew the sword. "It's a protector."

"What?" Aery stopped, staring at the glowing steel and back at the child. The guard pushed a lock of hair out of its face. "I... I suppose... Harpies are sentient..."

"Yes! It can learn!"

Another long pause stretched the air thin before Aery spoke again. "He. He can learn." The guard's eyes softened. "What will you do, sir?"

"I'll take him with us. I'll raise him, train him. This sword is meant for him. We'll make him a guard, the protector he's meant to be."

***

"What is rule number one?"

"Only eat what I'm supposed to."

"Rule number two?"

"Keep the sword safe, and make sure I always know where it is."

"Number three?"

"If something goes wrong, hide and wait for you."

Evellias ruffled the young Harpy's hair. "Good job!"

Raavas wrapped his wings around himself as a soft cooing chirp escaped his lips at the praise. "Thanks, Papa!"

"You're very welcome." The swordsman scooped the little boy into his arms.

"Can we go outside? Please?"

"Alright. Do you have your sword?"

The Harpy nodded, touching the little toy sword in its sheath resting beneath his wing. "Yes, Papa!"

"Okay, then we can go."

"Yay!" The little boy's fluffy white wings fluttered excitedly as Evellias took him to the front of the building.

Minutes passed of the little boy playing about in the grass before a familiar shape passed by the gate. Raavas gasped and leaped to his feet.

The man dismounted his horse and knelt. The little Harpy flung his arms around him. "Raavas! How are you doing?"

"Good!"

"Aery. Welcome back. Have you found anything?"

"Unfortunately, not. But we need to talk. Things have gotten complicated."

"What's the news?"

Aery glanced at the young Harpy. "It's a message from the king. Anyway, have you been behaving?"

"Yes! Did you bring presents?" The little boy grinned.

"Ha! Sorry to say, little one, not this time."

Raavas' smile faded a little. "Okay."

"I need to talk to Aery, okay? Can I leave you here for a little bit, Raav? Is that okay?"

"Papa?" Raavas squirmed, and Aery put him down.

"Yes?"

"Can I go get a snack?"

"Not right now, maybe soon, okay?"

"Okay."

The two adults retreated inside the building to converse, and Evellias called for a servant to watch the little Harpy.

They spoke and shared information on the new situations and the adaptations they'd have to make for a while. But just after they'd finished speaking, a servant burst into the room.

"Sir! Master Evellias! The young master has gone missing! We looked for him in the garden and all about the house, but he's gone. We can't find him!"

"What?" Evellias leaped to his feet. "Shit. Aery, find some sort of clues. You, follow him."

After a short moment to process, all three figures raced off to their respective orders. Evellias tossed the corner of his carpet away from the bed and pried up the loose floorboard, drawing out the magnificent silver sword.

It's light cast dimly upon the floor, he rushed back to the ground floor and nearly ran into Aery. "What did you find?"

"He's inside. We found trails of dirt in the hallways, and one of the servants heard him say something about food before he dissapeared."

"He did mention wanting something before we went to talk. We should go to the kitchen. See if he's somewhere in there."

"Agreed." Aery nodded, and the two warriors followed the hallways to the kitchen, but after searching it, found nothing.

Evellias drew the sword and held it out. The light glowed at the light levels of a candle. He backed toward the door, but as he did so, the light faded. "He's here."

"But that's impossible, sir. We checked everywhere."

"Apparently not." Evellias trailed around the room and stopped in front of a wall. "Here is brightest."

"But- wait. Unless..." Aery passed Evellias and pulled open the cellar door.

"No, that's not possible, how..." Evellias looked down at the sword. He stepped hesitantly onto the steps, the light growing stronger. But as the two swordsmen followed the stairs, a faint noise stopped them in their tracks.

A soft sniffling cry somewhere between a sob and a bird trill. Aery glanced at Evellias, and the swordsman dropped the weapon, rushing down the stairs. "Raavas? Raavas, is that you? Answer me. Are you okay?"

Instead of an answer, the sobbing continued. "Aery, grab a torch. Now."

"Yessir!"

Evellias stepped cautiously into the darkness, little hiccups interrupted the sobs as a small voice gasped from the darkness. "Papa... I... I'm sorry... I didn't... I didn't mean..."

"Raavas!" Evellias sighed in relief, but froze as the words finally sunk in and the child returned to sobbing just as Aery brought the torch.

But both of the swordsmen froze in their tracks as the light fell over the child. Blood. Panic surged through Evellias, but he stopped as he caught sight of the small shapes beside him. Crimson soaked the Harpy's hands and face and he flinched. "Papa... I'm sorry..."

"Raavas. What's there to be sorry about?" Evellias hid his fear as he sat beside the little boy and cradled him in his arms as Aery knelt to examine the shapes and the blood.

"I... I... I broke... I broke the rules! Don't... don't be mad... Papa. P-please."

"What do you mean?"

"Rats." Aery looked up. "Desecrated..."

"I was hungry, Papa." Raavas hugged Evellias. "I... they're quiet. I didn't want to hurt them... I..." He broke down sobbing again, and Evellias hugged him close again.

"It's okay, Raavas. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. It'll be the same as it always is." But as he and Aery locked eyes, they both knew that would be a lie.

Nothing would ever be the same.

Thanks for reading! Please comment anything if you read it! Anything at all!

Part 1 (Here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5

@i-do-anything-but-write @friendlesscat @darkandstormydolls @artsandstoriesandstuff @rivenantiqnerd

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Thank you for reading! <333

[writingquestionsanswered]

Finding Details to Go with a Basic Plot

Anonymous asked: Do you have any posts or new tips on creating the "fill" in stories?

I want to start here, because it's super important that we don't think of anything in stories as "fill" or "filler" because that implies it's "empty calories" there to take up unfilled space, and we never want to do that in stories. In stories, every scene--every event and moment--needs to be in service of the plot, characters, or world.

For example, I get an idea for a novel, like forbidden romance. My problem lies in figuring out other details, specifically in figuring out what would work for the plot (and what doesn't really matter). What would their jobs be? How can they meet? What interests/hobbies do they have? If someone has trauma, what was the traumatic event? My brain automatically looks for the links between everything, so it's hard to find a point of attack. I feel like everything has to interconnect to make sense - things can't be random or "because I say so." So when I have more of a plot idea rather than story, what approaches do you recommend?

If you have a general plot idea (like forbidden love) but you don't know how to flesh it out, it's probably because you haven't yet mastered an understanding of how stories generally work.

Stories are either character-driven, plot-driven, or a combination of both. Character-driven stories center around internal conflict, meaning a conflict within the protagonist's heart and mind. Plot-driven stories center around external conflict, meaning a problem in the protagonist's world. Stories that are both character-driven and plot-driven are centered around an external conflict while also exploring the protagonist's internal conflict. (And often that of the other main characters.) Plot Driven vs Character Driven Stories

Your protagonist's goal is always to resolve the conflict. In a character-driven story, that may not always be straightforward. Sometimes characters don't really understand their internal problem and so they sort of fumble their way through potential solutions as they try to fix whatever isn't quite right in them. In a plot-driven story, the resolution of the problem (the goal) is usually straight forward... take the ring to Mordor, survive the Hunger Games, pull off a heist to steal back the stolen art piece. Your character's pursuit of the goal, and the overcoming of obstacles placed in their path by the antagonistic force, is what makes up the action of the story. Then they finally face off against the antagonistic force in the climax, solving the problem once and for all. Understanding Goals and Conflict, How to Move a Story Forward, Basic Story Structure.

Here are some other posts that should help:

Guide: Filling in the Story Between Known Events Guide: How to Outline a Plot Beginning a New Story Finding a Story in Characters and Setting Finding a Plot to Go with Characters/Setting Turning a Barrage of Ideas into a Plot How to Turn Ideas into a Story

I hope that helps you start to pull your story into focus!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[viktoriaashleyyx]

My thoughts during different points in ACOTAR.

(It been like 2 months since I read it so these aren't direct quotes but I remember my reactions)

*Feyre contemplating killing the wolf. I remember her thinking "it could be a fae, I'm pretty sure it's a fae but realistically it's probably just a wolf and I am an emaciated teenager so I better use the element of surprise to kill it before it kills me."

Fair. Fair judgment. Can't argue with that tbh I do the same with yellow jackets (I'm surprised I don't see this take that often)

Lucien being mad at her for killing what she has now confirmed was Andres

Bro, she was a starving human and Tamlin did a good job at making him look like a wolf. Also, isn't that what you wanted her to do? Be mad at Amarantha, not some 19 yr old. (First and last time I disagreed with Lucy baby). At least Andres didn't die in vain like the others did now you have a shot.

"You can tell us your name, you can eat the food and we are not affected by iron. We can lie. We are affected by ash though."

Elves. You're elves. Why write Faerie if you're just gonna shit on everything that makes a Faerie, a Faerie?

Explaining the masks nonsense:

Bro you ever seen a man in a hat? Covering parts of a man's face makes them hotter. That's why they can grow beards

Hybern comes up and I am listening to the Audio books so sjm can't hide behind the spelling change.

Okay so we are just taking a shit on the Irish with this shit huh? (Hibernia is the original Latin name for Ireland)

"Dance Feyre"

Awwwe 😍

Tamlin writing her limericks and and then was super chill about her not knowing how to read even though she was pretty confrontational about it. He kept his cool, and reassured her and tried to teach her a little bit.

Awwwwwwwe 😍 they're getting along. Not mad at anyone here tbh. I can see why feyre would be ashamed and scared, but tam handled it well.

Rhysand shows up at the manor and Lucien stands in front of Feyre to shield her

Ugh go away RhySAnd you asshat. But also: Damn Lucy 😍.

RhySAnd makes Tamlin and Lucien beg to not tell Amarantha

I know this is a power play and I am supposed to think RhySAnd is the hot one, but.. to humble yourselves like that. To do anything in your power to protect her even if it's embarrassing. Damn. Tamtam and Lucy you have my heart.

Tamlin sending her away

Say it. Say it. Say it. Please feyre say you love him.

RhySAnd twisting her broken arm to get her to agree to a deal.

(By this point I had spoiled it for myself and knew that RhySAnd was the fan favorite) Bro what the fuck did he do to make up for this?

RhySAnd having her painted and drugging her to dance for him until she vomited.

Babygirl I am glad no penetration happened but like WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO TO MAKE UP FOR THIS??

Feyre contemplating "he's a fae and I am a human, I'm fighting to have maybe a few decades with him at best"

First off babygirl you haven't even been alive for 2 decades yet, calm down. Second, they're gonna turn her fae. Please don't "turn" her fae that's not how that works these aren't vampires.

Tamlin crawls to Feyre still bleeding, kills Amarantha when the other High Lords couldn't, and then holds her the way she had told him she wanted to be held when she dies.

Tam, baby, how did you fumble so hard? What tf do you do in the next book that makes people like RhySAnd more?? It makes me not want to keep reading but also want to keep reading cause what the fuck.

She dies and is revived by the high lords and turned fae.

They fucking turned her fae. This isn't how this works. Holly black did it better with the "hey I know you think you're a human but really you're a changeling." (Tithe, I haven't finished her other stuff yet idk what goes on with Jude)

[maleficore]

I've never felt more vindicated in my opinion that BG3 is an absolute crap Baldur's Gate game and only works as a Larian game than just now when I saw someone on tiktok say (and I quote)

"BG3 didn't get me into the Baldur's Gate series, it got me interested in Larian Studios' work."

BRUH.

No shade to the commenter because I absolutely get why they feel that way, that is not my issue. I'm just absolutely flabbergasted how you can fumble the "making a sequel" part of your job so bad, people legitimately don't give a shit about the previous installments or where the story might go from there. Maybe that would be understandable if the OG games were bad, but those are literally genere-defining classics???

People who haven't played BG1 and 2, don't play Durge and/or read up on the topic largely don't even know that Baldur's Gate is The Bhaalspawn Series because Larian almost completely stepped away from that in favour of making a self contained DnD original while still keeping the name. I feel like I'm going insane because I can't be the only one who is bothered by it? Right?? Hasn't Hollywood been getting shit for nostalgia bait constantly for the last few years? Yet people say this like it's a good thing, an achievement on Larian's part and a testament to how good the game is. Idk, it just leaves such a sour taste in my mouth.

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume ! this game wants me to be in a love triangle with kane and tunde so bad. as much as i like them both, i want ruby

first up is happily ever grafter ! i'd like a word with whoever wrote that sign, why tf are the f and t disconnected ?😭 anyways, ruby chose to dance for MC. we can't return the favour (for free) because my turn was for kane by default. i did a sincere speech for him, it was very sweet ! (and i figured that if MC messed up for "diamond scene purposes" it would be the least embarassing thing to fumble lol. it actually didn't go wrong tho)

once again, there’s a diamond option to cheat at a challenge. spoiler alert, it doesn’t even matter because you still lose. i would only recommend taking this scene if you want a turn with somebody else. interestingly enough, jace was an option. but it could mean nothing because ruby’s partner is too. i was curious about jace, but i didn’t want to hurt esme so i picked ruby

vida won, so she takes kane on a date. her talking about her job and horses was supposed to be boring, but i honestly thought it was more interesting than the majority of this season. silly conversations like that make the game feel more alive

vida gets a text that one of the girls is getting dumped. my immediate guess was that it’s gonna be her

we have to graft for our lives, and FB remembered the “walking around the villa by tapping on islander icons” thing, yay ! (side note, i miss seasons 1 and 2 so much that i’ve considered replaying the matchmaker versions. the horror.)

MC goes up to the treehouse with ruby, and she gives MC a massage. finally, an actual conversation in this villa ! (the screenshots are just paraphrasing, the scene is much longer) it's not the most earth-shattering dialogue but i'm just really happy to know something about a LI besides the fact that they're obsessed with MC

(and in classic FB fashion, there was a pronoun error in the "going all the way" scene)

i'm sick of callum ! FB, i would buy gems with actual money if you gave us the option to physically fight ruby's partner. esme is a real one (a bit of a tangent but i wish that she had more going on besides her relationship with jace. unfortunately FB is a bunch of lazy misogynists, so every woman is defined by the man she's with or wants to be with 🙃)

onto the dumping, callum votes for MC, and the rest of the guys vote for vida. “the woman was too stunned to speak” i guess 😭 i’m just gonna headcanon that she cussed him out and it got bleeped

like i predicted, vida got dumped. her diamond scene made me sad that we couldn’t actually be friends with her. anyways, she also revealed that jace kissed another girl during his first sleepover 👀

next up is a boy's choice recoupling ! kane chooses MC. another one of the very few positive things i can say about this season is that we haven't been stolen by a bombshell yet

after that is a chance to go in the hideaway ! you already know that special grade cursed object (the prop box) makes an appearance

nothing is sexier than spraying whipped cream all over your clothes... 😭

the following morning, jace and esme are fightinggg. thankfully, i already knew that he tries to throw MC under the bus, so i stayed out of it. i feel kinda bad tho, i would tell esme because idgaf if jace hates my MC, but i read that he basically tries to claim that MC said he should come clean because esme wouldn't mind that he cheated. this game is very selective on when we can call out islanders for straight up lying about MC, so i just decided not to risk it

i wonder if there will be consequences for knowing about it but not telling him to come clean/telling esme yourself. anyways, i would like to throw hands with jace too. why the hell would he say this ?😭 don't worry esme. as tiffany pollard once said, i'll be there for you, with open arms and legs

next volume is excess baggage, but also a dumping ? i can't tell if it's supposed to be one person or a couple. mind you, there’s only 4 couples. we don’t really need another dumping. maybe it will end up being anna and tunde, but i’m getting winning hearts flashbacks. imagine if the next volume is jace, ruby’s partner, & the guy you’re not with “dumping” MC, but we’re actually sent to casa…or another sleepover. the horror.

overall, i know i just said we don’t really need a dumping, but callum and jace need to get dumped immediately 😭 and PLEASE bring in some new islanders. at this rate, dominic will probably show up 2-3 seasons later like zeph and cassius